


How Do I Know

by FuturePSotUS



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-08-28 17:59:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8456305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FuturePSotUS/pseuds/FuturePSotUS
Summary: As his senior year winds down Jack and Bitty have grown a lot closer. Bitty knows they’re attracted to one another just as surely as he knows Jack can’t and won’t make a move. But will an accidentally emotional day in Boston be what the hesitant Jack needs to admit his feelings?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ampersang](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ampersang/gifts).



> I’m having Bitty start French a year early for very important, flirty reasons. Y’all don’t blame me, right? I’m sorry for any incorrect French Jack may say. I only speak French-French so if anything would be different in French-Canadian please let me know!  
> Also, for the record, the first line of the outline for this story read, “Flirty, flirty, flirty, pie.” As a friend put it, “Check Please: A Summary.” A strong start I think.

Before Bitty joined the Samwell Men’s Hockey team, a Friday night at the Haus consisted of epic Mario Kart battles, epic games of beer pong, and epic pizza orders. His commandeering of the kitchen didn’t do much to change their routine, save the addition of epic pies. In preparation for another typical Friday night the baker laid out everything he needed to make a solid cherry and a more experimental raspberry to share with his friends.

Boys floated in and out of the kitchen as he worked. Shitty and Lardo sat at the table keeping him company while the crusts chilled in the fridge. Lardo entertained herself by painting Shitty’s nails a  disgusting, shiny green.

“What the hell, bro?” asked Ransom as he hunted around for chips.

“Hey! Nothing except society’s overly preoccupied concern about a supposedly inherent weakness in femininity is keeping you from getting your nails done too. It’s relaxing.”

Ransom made eye contact with Jack as he came in and laughed.

“Whatever you say bro, that’s a nasty-ass color is all I meant. Lards is totally just trying to finish up the bottle on you.”

Without looking up from her work, the team manager raised a fist to Ransom who bumped it on his way out.

“Make sure they’re dry in time for us to kick your guys asses at Nintendo 64.”

“You fuckin’ wish, brah!”

Jack moved to lean against the counter nearest Bitty. “Need help?”

“Nope! Dough’s chilling, and this’ll all be done soon enough. Wanna lick the spoon from the cherry pie filling?”

“You’re using store bought filling?”

Jack raised a hand to feel Bitty’s forehead only to have it swatted away.

“I am not! I made it, and I made a little too much to put in the pie! There’s some extra. It’s in that bowl--” Bitty broke off laughing as the bigger man quickly extended his arm to snatch up the bowl, dipping his fingers in sans spoon.

“There’ll be some raspberry pretty soon too.”

“Meh,” shrugged Jack, “I’ll wait for the pie.”

“Suit yourself. Oh- could you grab two pie plates, please? And my rolling pin? When you’re finished, no rush.”

The quartet’s conversation drifted, the three men laughing as Lardo rambled on about a visiting artist who’d given a truly, spectacularly horrendous lecture where he’d managed to alienate an entire room of students and their professor within the first ten minutes.

Without being asked, Jack moved to wash up for Bitty. The gesture felt natural all the time they’d spent together in the kitchen last semester. The two effortlessly maneuvered around one another, still engaged in Lardo’s story.

“Wanna help roll out the bases?” Bitty questioned once Jack finished clearing the sink.

“Sure.”

“Woahhhh,” joked Shitty, “Slow down with all that base talk! What base are we talking, anyway? If it’s two pies does that make it second base?”

“Ha ha,” Jack rolled his eyes, “So original.”

“Right- you do those, and I’ll work on the top,” Bitty cut off another witty comment from Shitty with a threatening wave of his rolling pin, “and you can have first pick once they’re cooked and cooled.”

Cockily, Jack stuck his tongue out at his best friend.

“No fair! I’ll go to second base with you anytime, Bits! You know I would!”

“You’re sweet, but I’ll only let you near my dough when the ice in hell freezes over!”

Lardo paused her inspection of Shitty’s right hand to reach for her bag. “I gotta write that down. Say that again, that was swawesome.”

“Brah, I can’t believe you’re going to transcribe my pain into your notebook while wearing a smile. I’m wounded! This on top of the knowledge that Bitty doesn’t trust me to do a good job handling his bottom! What’s Jack got that I don’t?”

“Killer glutes?” guessed Jack.

Bittle nodded without remorse.

“Softer hands too.”

Shitty bah’d and looked meaningfully at his half manicured hands.

“Oh, honestly,” Bitty sighed. “You wanna lick the raspberry bowl clean once I put the filling in?”

“Yes, please!”

Bitty smiled as he moved closer to Jack, reaching for flour to dust down his rolling surface.

Once the pies were safely nestled into in the oven, Bitty started to move towards the living room  when Jack asked, “Hey, don’t you have a French test Monday?”

“Maybe…..”

“Have you studied?”

Lardo snickered.

“Maybe…. not yet?”

“Bittle.”

“I will! Eventually!”

Jack didn’t look convinced.

“Je ne veux study pas,” frowned Bitty.

“Ça me fait plus heureux si tu as étudié.”

Haltingly Bitty replied, “Je sais… heureux... est happy mais je ne sais pas le future tense-”

“Futur,” supplied Jack.

“Oui, je ne sais pas le futur mais je comprends. Et je… will étudié.”

“Je vais étudier.”

Bitty repeated, “Je vais étudier.”

“Bon. Je vais t’aider.”

“Parfait! Tu est le best!” He paused and scrunched his face, “No wait I know this one! Tu est le meilleur!”

From their position at the table, Lardo and Shitty’s eyes connected and they shook their heads, suppressing a whole host of chirps that might invoke Bitty’s wrath and result in the retraction of their pie privileges.

“We have to take a break in 50 minutes for me to take the pies out,” Bitty reminded.

“Fair enough. Allons-y.”

“Bon! Let’s étudié!”

“My room?”

Still staring at Lardo like they were in The Office, Shitty pressed his lips into a thin line. She stopped painting for a moment to thrust her hips a few times. Shitty giggled. Jack look at them suspiciously.

“Sure? Why not mine?” Bitty pressed.

“I know you, Bittle.If we go into your room you’ll get distracted by something.”

Shitty used his free hand to mime a blow job. As Jack and Bitty walked out he yelled after them, “Make sure you practice safe studying!”

Jack glared over his shoulder at the now cackling pair before disappearing upstairs. Bitty clambered onto the bed while Jack took a seat at his desk.They fell into a comfortable routine; Bitty slowly worked through his exercises, stopping at every section break to read them out loud. Jack corrected his pronunciation and helped him understand new vocab.

“I don’t understand the accents! How do you do that?!”

Jack grinned at him, “Wanna know a secret? I don’t understand them either. Just try to keep your tongue inside your mouth.”

“Okay…” ignoring the implications of the statement, Bitty did his best to imitate Jack. He quickly ran through a list of vocabulary and, when finished, set it down with a flourish.

“Not too bad,” said Jack. “I don’t know how else to explain it. I was born with mine.”

“It feels funny! Like literally feels funny. Like I’m trying to lisp on purpose or something.”

“Maybe that’s why the French have a reputation for being the best kissers.”

God damn it! Jack couldn’t just drop something like that into a normal conversation! How in the world did this boy expect Bitty to function with something like _kissing_ hanging out there.

Surprisingly, he managed a weak chirp, “But you’re Canadian…”

Jack defended himself stoutly, “French-Canadian! It counts!”

“Uhh-huh.”

He had to move them back to a benign topic he could navigate without fear of spontaneous combustion.

“...So… what’s with all the silent letters?”

“You still haven't realized that the French appreciate occasional silence?”

Caught off guard by the joke, Bitty laughed harder than it probably deserved. “Oh, you’re funny today, aren’t you.”

“I am. I had a good night’s sleep.”

“Well that’s good,” Bitty smiled softly.

After a beat of silence the pair picked back up with Bitty’s work. Jack stole the paper Bitty’d been reading from to quiz him on meanings. It wasn’t until they finished that Bitty looked at his phone; only thirty-five minutes had passed. He was getting faster.

“Thanks. You helping me like this really means a lot, you know. I’m sure you have other stuff to do,” he said as he put all his papers back into their folder.

“Well, it’s self-serving. I like talking to you. I- I like having someone to talk French to. It’s very… familiar.”

“Oh! Well then, I’m sorry I’m not better at it. I can’t even hold a real conversation unless you wanna talk about ‘ma chat.’”

“Ma chatte ou mon chat.”

Bitty frowned at the correction and Jack hastened to reassure him, “It’s enough. Really. I like,” he gestured between them, “this.”

With determination in his voice Bitty said, “I’ll get better. Probably... Hopefully....”

“You know, when I was little I refused to speak English with strangers.”

“Really? Why?”

“I dunno. I grew out if though. Obviously.”

Bits laughed, “Thank goodness for that. It mighta made captaining difficult!”

“I like a good challenge.”

Bitty wasn’t sure what to say to that but it didn’t matter because before he could open his mouth Jack continued, “Je suis heureux que tu ne peux pas me comprendre parce que cela signifie que je peux tu dire comment tu es très important pour moi sans crainte.”

“Oui?” Eric guessed, “ou non? Are you chirping me in French? Because that’s just not fair!?”

He couldn’t decipher the look on Jack’s face. It certainly wasn’t regret or anger, but he didn’t seem happy either.

“Yeah… kind of….”

Bitty let the look, and whatever the chirp had been slide. “Unbelievable,” he said, unable to keep the fondness from his voice.

He liked Jack, he liked Jack and he wasn’t admitting it or acting on it. It was fine, it was all fine.

Jack helped him to gather up all his flashcards and stuff them into his french notebook.

“So… plans this weekend?”

“Nothing much,” Bitty shrugged, “I think it’s supposed to be decent out on Saturday. You?”

“I have to go to Providence for a meeting on Saturday.”

Ah, yes, the reason why he wasn’t going to act on his feelings. Good timing.

“Cool. You excited?”

Jack shrugged and opened his laptop.

“Not really…”

“Why not?”

Bittle half-heartedly pulled out a new worksheet and a pen from his bag.

“Just nervous, I guess.”

“Well that makes sense!”

“I don’t wanna make the wrong decision, you know?”

Bitty nodded seriously. “What about a pros and cons list?” he asked. “Have you made one of them?”

“Only about a thousand times.”

He hummed sympathetically. “Ahhh, one of those situations. I felt the same when I decided to give up skating.”

Bitty’d meant his response to help Jack, to really show him that he wasn’t alone, that Bitty understood. But Jack’s eyes only drooped more after.

“I… I’m really sorry you had to do that.”

Eric shrugged. He’d come to terms with the decision.

“It’s ok. I quit figure skating but that let me start hockey.” Wanting desperately to see Jack lighten up some he chirped, “And I think hockey’s pretty great. Don’t you?”

“Isn’t it the best?”

Success. Relief coursed through Bitty, who laughed and leaned over to pat Jack’s forearm.

“It is. Even checking. Well, sometimes even checking.” _When you’re checking me._

Earnestly Jack covered Bitty’s hand before he could pull it away fully, “You’ll get better at that. You’re already stronger than you were at the beginning of the year.”

His sincerity heated Bitty’s cheeks.

“Thanks. I hope I can keep getting better after you graduate.”

“I’m sure you can. You’ve been handling me on top of you for months.”

_Jesus Christ Zimmermann why did you say that?! It wasn’t even really related to what he said?! Fix it!!!_  
“If you can handle that. You can handle anything.”  
 _That didn’t fix it!???!_

Trying to keep his composure Bitty nodded and hummed while mentally adding, ‘me on top of you’ to the top of his extensive JZ spank bank.

He pulled his hand away and fretted, “Thank you. But look at me borrowing trouble! We were talking about you!”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ve been through much worse.”

Even the abstract thought of Jack’s worse made Bitty’s throat feel tight.

“I want to help though! However I can.”

“You’ve already done plenty.” Jack turned his face away a little, ostensibly to study, but also to end the conversation. Still, he felt compelled to add, “Thanks, Bittle.”

Silence fell as Bitty, stretched out on the bed and worked his way through a new vocabulary/grammar sheet. Jack sat across from him at his desk doing his best to ignore how comfortable the Georgian looked in his space while making little progress on his thesis. He sighed subconsciously every time he had to pause to look at his notes. Always up for a distraction from his own work, it didn’t take too long for Bitty to offer, “Need help?”

“I just need more sources.”

“Oh, well that doesn’t seem too hard!”

“Probably isn’t. But I don’t have the energy to go to the library right now, and I’ve broken up with JSTOR.”

Snorting, Bitty tried to keep a straight face. He asked, “You’ve… broken up? What did it do to you?”

He’d meant it seriously at first, but unable to pass up an opportunity to make the smaller man laugh Jack kept his voice low as if the database was actually a person who’d hurt him. “I just can’t look at it anymore. It’s not healthy. We were too involved in each other’s lives.”

His tone broke Bitty’s composure. Laughing uproariously he tried to get out, “B-b-b-boundaries! You n-n-n-eed boundaries!”

His face still stony Jack nodded, pressing a fist to his lips before pulling it away to say, “Right. You’ve got to. If I had a safe word it’d be JSTOR. That’s a mood killer if I ever heard one.”

The unexpected sexual humor completely ruined any chance Eric had of pulling himself together. Sitting up he wiped tears from his eyes as he tried to catch a full breath. His ribs ached from the force of his laughter.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry! You’re crying!”

Watching this blond boy cry actual tears of laughter because of something he’d said created an intense burning inside of Jack. He sat on his hands to stop himself from reaching out. Fuck. He wanted to kiss Bittle so fucking badly.

“It’s fine! It’s fine! Oh my god! Jack!”

“You’re really red.”

Bits threw a pillow at Jack’s head and stuck his tongue out for good measure. The silliness of the gestures should have diminished Jack’s need but it didn’t. He craved contact; an affirmation that the closeness he felt for Bitty was reciprocated in every way.

But an alarm broke the moment. Bitty’s laptop rang out letting him know his pie needed attention.

“THE PIE!”

He bolted from the room, his things scattering behind him. A few notecards fell from the bed and he trampled over them as he scrambled for the door..

In the kitchen he found his pie steaming on a wire cooling rack. Shitty and Lardo did their best to look innocent while Bitty inspected it for signs of damage or burning.

Quietly, Lardo offered a simple, “It smelled done,” as Jack entered the room.

“You ANGEL!” gushed Bits, swooping over to hug her. “You caught it just in time!”

“So… do we get first dibs for being its saviors?” Shitty asked hopefully.

Bitty shot him a knowing glance, “In about half an hour when it’s cool, sure!”

Jack pouted, “I was hoping for some now though?”

From the fridge Bitty tossed him a small tupperware of leftover cherry filling. “I saved the extras for you.”

Again not even bothering with a spoon, Jack simply opened it up and tipped a few cherries into his mouth. “You’re a good man, Eric Bittle.”

Bitty blushed, “It’s not a big deal. Just second nature.”

“I know. That’s what makes it so endearing.”

_/\\_

On Saturday morning Jack was already in Providence by the time Bitty managed to drag himself from bed. With bedhead and unrubbed eyes he stumbled into the kitchen for a much needed bowl of cereal and cup of coffee.

“Hey,” Lardo greeted him from her perch on the counter next to the coffee pot. She poured him a steaming cup, “Have you heard from Zimmermann?”

“You angel,” Bitty inhaled the bitter smell of the jet black brew before meandering to the fridge to add creamer. “No, he’s in Providence though.”

She persisted, “Yeah but like, have you heard from him today?”

God, it was too early for this sort of conversation. Bitty didn’t answer until he’d stirred the creamer in and taken a large, still too hot, gulp.

“No,” he drew his words out just to make sure she understood his confusion, “He’s in Providence. To talk to the Falconers. And I just got up?” he gestured down at himself as if Lardo could have missed it, “So I haven’t seen him? Why…? Have you heard from him?”

“No. I was on the couch pretending to sleep when he left though. He seemed jittery.”

Bitty refused to take the bait. He and Jack weren’t together, they weren’t a couple. It wasn’t his responsibility to check in even though Lardo clearly thought he should.

And yet Bitty’s traitorous mouth ignored the logic of his brain and asked, “Do you think I should text him? Friends text each other for support when they hear the other one might be nervous? Right?”

Lardo looked pleased, “They do, and you should. He broke a glass.”

Duty done, she hopped off the counter and patted Bitty’s shoulder before wandering upstairs, presumably to Shitty’s room.

“Oh god,” Bitty moaned to the empty room. Foregoing cereal he simply picked up his coffee and returned to his room before sending a simple-

(SMS to Jack) hey how’s providence?

He expected Jack was pretty busy so the near immediate response startled Bitty.

(SMS to Bittle) it’sok.  
(SMS to Bittle) How are you?

Bitty got back under the covers and propped himself up on his pillows. It seemed like maybe Jack did need a friend.

(SMS to Jack) bored. I have to write an english essay.  
(SMS to Jack) Why just ok?

Again, Jack’s reply came quickly.

(SMS to Bittle) lots to think about  
(SMS to Jack) ahhh not necessarily bad then?  
(SMS to Bittle) no, i guess not.

In Providence, texting under a table, Jack wrote out and deleted-  
~~(SMS to Bittle) what if i choke again?~~

Thankfully Bitty texted back quickly enough he didn’t have time to write it again and risk sending it.

(SMS to Jack) who are you meeting with today?  
(SMS to Bittle) georgia, you met her the other day… a few people from the falconers.

Bitty bit his lip and did his best to stay upbeat. Lardo was right, Jack did seem off.

(SMS to Jack) oh yeah! She seemed cool! I was surprised she could keep up with you on your run! Is everyone else cool too?   
(SMS to Bittle) yeah. They’re really nice.   
(SMS to Bittle) supportive. Want to help me grow  
(SMS to Jack) well that sounds fantastic!  
(SMS to Jack) you need people who can challenge you. I think we’re too easy sometimes.

Bitty had meant SMH but Jack couldn’t help himself. He typed and sent-  
(SMS to Bittle) you’re not. You’re exactly what i needed.

Bitty clutched at his phone. Was it super stupid and desperately sad if he screenshotted that? He did anyway, telling himself he could delete it later once he’d had time to think things through.

(SMS to Jack) awww well. Good. that’s great!

Full of self-doubt and clinging to his own phone, Jack again wrote and deleted a text.  
~~(SMS to Bittle) i don’t know if i have this in me.~~

He couldn’t send that. Bittle respected him, thought he was a good guy, a strong leader.

(SMS to Bittle) yeah. It is.

Jack had said Bitty was what he needed. Jack had just said that. And Jack and Bitty liked each other, even if they’d never act on it. So Bitty took a chance.

(SMS to Jack) so what’s holding you back? You seem off. Even if it’s by text.

Of course Bitty’d notice something was off. He always noticed when Jack was less than 100% okay. He always picked up on all the little ticks and emotions that Jack grappled with daily. Jack too took a chance.

(SMS to Bittle) … let’s talk when i get home.

Talk?! What would they talk about?! Was Jack in Providence panicking about him? Had he done something? Overstepped some unwritten, unspoken line? Suddenly the Georgian wanted to crawl out of his skin. How was he supposed to wait until Jack got home to talk?

(SMS to Jack) of course. Did you take the train? I can come to the station if you like?  
(SMS to Bittle) i did. Do you want to meet in boston and have dinner? My treat.

Dinner in Boston? Why had he offered to go to Boston and buy Bittle dinner? God, that was way out of Bitty’s way. He was so selfish and inconsiderate.

~~(SMS to Jack) omg honey what happened  
~~ (SMS to Jack) yeah! Sounds perfect! Where should we eat?  
(SMS to Bittle) I want a burger. A fucking big one.  
(SMS to Bittle) … is that ok?  
~~(SMS to Jack) omg omg omg are you ok?  
~~ (SMS to Jack) yeah! Of course! I always want fries.  
(SMS to Bittle) and a pitcher of cold beer. I’ll meet you at back bay at 6?  
~~(SMS to Jack) alcohol? fuck this is bad  
~~ (SMS to Jack) perfect! Just enough time to procrastinate some more and head to the station.  
(SMS to Bittle) see you  
~~(SMS to Jack) omg fuck you didn’t even say anything about my procrastination!~~

_/\\_

Anxious and worried, Bitty arrived at the restaurant nearly twenty minutes early. Checking quickly to make sure Jack hadn’t also miraculously showed up early he waved off the hostess and did a few laps around the block to work off some energy. It wouldn’t do to set Jack on edge when the poor boy so clearly needed stability right now.

Ending his fourth lap he saw Jack and jogged over, waving. The Canadian offered a tight smile, his hands balled into fists by his side, but didn’t say much. Bitty took it upon himself to talk them through the entire seating and ordering processes, only stopping as their food arrived.

Eric cringed at the gusto with which Jack dug into his double patty melt (with bacon and a fried egg) and chili cheese fries. He resisted telling a joke about Jack’s appetite and the NHL for fear of making things worse, and instead focused on his own normally portioned cheeseburger.

Jack played with the fries and sighed, before shoving a few in his mouth, “I wish these were poutine.”

“I have a serious question--” desperate to keep things light Bitty paused for effect, “--What’s poutine?”

“Ah, well- if god designed a french fry, it’s how he’d do it,” Jack said by way of an explanation. The corners of his mouth turned up the smallest amount as he remembered, “Once I gave some to Shitty while he was stoned and he cried. Like, actual tears.”

“I need to try this stuff! Where can we find it?”

“There’s actually a pub by Samwell that does a decent interpretation. It’s fries with gravy and cheese curds.”

“Next time we go out we’re eating there!” Bitty declared, smacking his palm on the table.

“Sure sounds good.”

Jack smiled his first real smile of the evening in response to Bitty’s grin. Mentally, he added a point to his ‘make Jack happier ’tally.

“That’s better,” he said softly, “Do you want to talk about today, or should we just ignore it?”

Watching the smile slide off Jack’s face made Bittle feel like a total asshole. He’d nearly taken it back when Jack said, “I want to ignore it, but I also recognize that’s not going to make it go away.” He gathered his thoughts some more, “I’ve gotten very comfortable at Samwell.”

“... and you think you won’t be able to get comfy somewhere new?” hazarded Bits.

“I think it’ll take time. Maybe it’ll go better now than it would have a few years ago but… I don’t know.”

“Well, for what’s it’s worth, I think you can do it.”

“Thank you,” Jack was touched, “I just… have a lot to live up to, and a lot of people expecting things from me.”

Bitty nodded understandingly. Propping his chin on one hand he proposed, “How about this- I’ll never expect anything from you, so that way you never have to do be anything other than Jack to me? Hmm?”

But as soon as he’d said it he seconded guessed himself. Who was he to Jack anyway? A linemate and a friend, nothing more. His offer was weird and presumptuous. He bit his lip in embarrassment.

Jack looked down.

“I… thanks Bittle. I’m still trying to figure out who Jack is though.”

“Well, that’s just fine.” Before he could stop himself he continued, “I like this version quite a bit, so I bet you only get better.”

Oh my god. Why the hell couldn’t he stop his mouth from opening and making so much stupid noises?!

But the statement caused Jack’s head to jerk up in surprise, “You do? Why?”

“Why… do I like you?” Bitty wasn’t sure what sorta like Jack was surprised about. He tried to keep his answer vague. “Because… I do? I don’t know. You make me laugh, and you help me with things, and you bake with me… you’re my friend.” _And I love you_.

He didn’t add the final part but he thought it so hard he hoped Jack could feel it.

Jack looked genuinely relieved, but rather than say why he stuttered out, “Oh. That’s… great? Really great. Thank you. We’ve definitely gotten a lot closer this year, eh?”

Bitty shifted in his seat. What was he supposed to say in return? _Oh yeah, we have. Isn’t it fabulous how we’re totally in love with each and can’t ever talk about or do anything about it?!_

“Yeah. It’s been great. Thanks.”

An awkward silence fell.

Surprisingly, Jack was the one who ended it. He forced his face into something lighter looking and asked, “Well, what about you? You’re practically a junior. Are you going to study abroad?”

“God no,” Bitty shook his head and smiled, “I need hockey for my scholarship. Besides I don’t even know where I’d go. It’s not like I speak another language.”

“You know some French,” Jack grinned.

“Ouais! Ouais! Should j’étudie in Montreal?”

“Oui, avec moi.”

“Oh yeah, your parents live in Montreal, don’t they?”

“In the suburbs, really. But yeah.”

“Cool. Is it pretty? I’ve uh- looked up pictures and it looks pretty. This is as far north as I’ve ever been.”

“Yeah. It was a nice place to grow up. I had it good.”

“Good,” Bitty smiled softly, “I’d like to come up one day. Visit.” His smile turned more amused, “Maybe not in the winter though.”

Jack’s smile grew to match Bitty’s, “Winter is the best time to be there though! What’s the point of being in Canada if you can’t skate?!”

“Jack!”

He had to stand up a little from his seat to reach across the table and slap him on the arm.

“It’ll be cold! I can barely handle winter here! I’ll freeze!”

“I know,” Jack couldn’t hold in a grin, “I know. You look so cute in all your layers.”

He shoved a fry in his mouth and desperately tried to think of a way to turn an obviously flirtatious statement into a chirp. On the other side of the table Bitty ate his own fry and did his best to do the same for his own sanity.

“It’s not that many layers,” he grumbled.

Thankful for the repreve Jack laughed, “I’ll remember that next time we’re going somewhere in October and it takes you twenty minutes to suit up.”

“That’s not fair! October is a transitional month! I’m not used to it yet!”

“Mmmhmmmm,” Jack took a casual sip of his beer, “Whatever you need to tell yourself, Bittle.”

The conversation lagged for a few minutes as they continued to eat. But again Jack was the one to jump-start it. Hesitantly he admitted, “... I think I’m signing with the Falconers.”

“Jack!” Bitty’s head came up quickly and a smile lit up his entire face, “That’s amazing! Oh my god! Congrats! Oh they’re gonna be so lucky to you have you!”

“Don’t um, like tell anyone, ok? It’s not 100% yet.”

“Hey, I’d never!” Bitty bit his lip, “Have you told anyone else yet?”

“Just my mom.”

Eric paused to take the weight of that statement in. _Damn it Jack, you’re makin’ in awful hard for me to keep pretending we’re just friends._

“Oh. Wow. Thanks for telling me. I swear I won’t tell anyone.”

“Thanks,” Jack looked down and grappled with whether to keep talking or not before taking a big breath, “Do you think it’s the right choice?”

In a comic strip Bitty’s mouth would’ve fallen open in a perfect O. His eyes would’ve bugged out of his head, and maybe he would’ve slipped out of his chair from the shock of Jack’s question. But since he’s not in a comic all Eric does is finish chewing to buy some time to think before answering.

“Do you feel like the Falcs will treat you like Jack, the man and not Jack, the hockey robot?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Jack hesitated again and Eric, watching him closely, refrained from a cheery ‘great!’ to see what else he had to say.

“But… they’re not a big, flashy team. They’re not ranked very high…”

Bitty cut him off, “When you think about the things you care about in a team, is flash one of them? Or is it something you think stupid men on the TV are going to talk about to fill air time?” He didn’t raise his voice. No one else, not even the people at the table next to them, could hear him, but somehow he managed to sound protective as he continued, “Because you’re the one who’s got to live your life. Not them. And they don’t know a single thing about you, Jack, the man.”

“It’s not just the sportscasters,” Jack’s voice hadn’t changed but his eyes drooped down and the lines around his mouth were deep, “It’s everyone. It’s the girl who sits behind us in class, it’s the father in line at the supermarket, it’s the internet, the news, the fucking kids with their jerseys and figurines. I’m supposed to be a role model! Me!”

Again, Bits reached out and covered Jack’s hand. He couldn’t tell if the touch helped but since Jack wasn’t pulling away he figured it couldn’t hurt either.

“You don’t owe those people anything, Jack. Anyone you really care about, who really cares about you, will want you to be happy above anything else. If you can live your life happily and that makes you a role model for a few people then that’s great and you should do it. But you can’t live your life miserable and let people think they should look up to you. Smart people will admire your courage for choosing a smaller team because it’s the right team for you. And the rest can go fuck themselves.”

Speech finished, Bitty shifted, a little uncomfortable. Jack wasn’t the only one doing a poor job of hiding his feelings today. On the other side of the table, his hand still warm under Bits’, Jack nodded seriously.

“Yeah…. Yeah, I know. Thank you.”

Bitty shrugged a shoulder and picked up his burger with his free hand. May as well put it all out there, he figured as he replied, “It’d break my heart to see you doing something you love and being miserable at the same time.”

“That’s what happens when there’s a glitch in the robot’s programming,” joked Jack lamely.

He looked over in awe as a fierce look appeared on the Eric’s face.

“Well then, it’s a good thing there aren’t any hockey robots here, hmm?”

Jack blinked.

“Yeah. Good thing.”

_/\\_

Meal finished, the two lingered outside the restaurant as Bitty looked up train tables.

“You wanna go walk around Faneuil Hall?” asked Jack just before Bits suggested they hurry to try and catch the next train. “There’s a Williams and Sonoma.”

“Sure!” the speed at which Eric put his phone away was something usually only seen on the ice. “Can we get ice cream?”

“Yeah, ‘course.”

They set off down Boylston at a slow pace. People wandered all around them, and their shoulders bumped as they came closer together to avoid being split by an oblivious group of conference attendees heading back to their hotel. Even after the group passed though they stayed close.

“Hey, Providence is pretty close to Samwell and to Harvard! So that’d be great!”

Jack gave a lopsided smile, “Yeah, I thought that one through.”

“So…” Bitty thought about returning to the Haus without Jack at the end of the summer and felt sad, “What happens next?”

“Next we buy you some new baking equipment, and we have some ice cream, and we try not to panic about the future. Because it’s nice out, and I’m having a good time with you.”

“Oh…” Bitty’s smile turned back on full blast as he looked up at Jack. He desperately struggled not to reach out and link their fingers together. The back of their hands bumped twice, and he contented himself with a simple shoulder bump. “Okay, but that sounds like a lot of treats for me.”

“Weird. Better take them and not question it.”

“What baking equipment are we buying?”

“I dunno. Maybe some madeleine moulds? But I mean like, whatever you want though.”

Eric grinned, “You angling for some specific treats, Mr. Zimmermann?”

“No…” Jack’s own smile turned a little self-conscious, “... but if I were would Williams and Sonoma have them?”

“They would. Do you like yours with a curd or a jam on them?”

“I like them however you make ‘em.”

“With lemon curd drizzled over the tops?”

“I love lemon!”

_Of course you do, you silly boy. You think I don’t know what you like?_

“Excellent. But, hey!” Bitty paused at a street vendor stationed at one corner of the Commons, “Would you rather get lemon ices than ice cream?”

“Nah,” Jack caught Eric’s wrist to tug him up Tremont, “I already feel like I’m gonna faint I’m so full. We should definitely finish off with full fat, peanut butter cup ice cream. I know a place.”

Inside the hall Jack made a beeline for a stall towards the middle, ordering himself a two scoop waffle of peanut butter and, without asking, a single scoop of cotton candy for Bitty.

“Oh my gosh. That looks great!”

“I don’t know how you eat that stuff, Bittle. It’s not natural.”

“Whatever. It’s heaven. Here, take a pic of them with me!”

The two pushed their cones together so Bitty could fit their hands into an up close photo that showcased their ice creams, his untouched and Jack’s with one large bite taken out of it.

“Hey, can I post that, actually?” Jack asked as Bitty texted his mom the picture.

“Oh, sure thing!”

He captioned the image, ‘maybe today wasn’t so bad.’ He waited patiently for it to upload to prove to Bits that he knew how to apply filters on instagram, but the smaller man grabbed him by the wrist and tugged him outside to where a crowd had gathered around a street performer.

“So what, I’ve got to learn to do backflips to impress you?” he joked, pocketing his phone.

Sometimes when Bitty thinks about how Jack can breathe he’s impressed, but he shook the thought off and shrugged, “Or a front flip, I’m not that picky.”

Jack cracked up at Bitty’s deadpan delivery.

“So tell us again how you broke your neck Mr. Zimmermann?” he said in his best newscaster voice. “God, that’d be one way to get out of signing with the NHL.”

“You probably don’t attempt a full flip on your first time. Start with a forward roll instead. You know?”

“Sure. Sure. Please don’t ask me to demonstrate.”

Bits looked up at him in amazement.

“Can you really do it?”

Jack’s heart sped up looking down at Bittle’s face.

“Well yeah, if we were on some grass. You just kind of tuck and roll. Can you?”

“Well yeah, but I took dance and gymnastics and stuff for figure skating.”

As the performer approached his finale, the push of the still growing crowd forced them closer. As they maneuvered to stay together their knuckles brushed again and just as Jack twisted his wrist to take Bitty’s hand his phone rang. Looking at it he swore and pulled away, backing out of the crowd.

“Sorry I’ve… I’ve got to take this. Tell me how it ends.”

But with Jack’s brow so furrowed Bitty couldn’t pay attention. His eyes constantly darted over to try to monitor the situation from afar. Just as the roar of a chainsaw drowned out the crowd’s cheers and three flaming torches launched themselves into the air, Bits gave up pretending he cared about the performance anymore and pushed his way towards Jack.

Jack obviously wanted to keep his voice down even though he was speaking in French, but as the conversation continued he got louder and more frantic. As he pulled at his hair, Bitty stopped hovering and sat down so close so their hips pressed together. He put his faith in people’s usual obliviousness and the shadows created by the stairs they sat on to hide his actions as he wrapped an arm around Jack’s waist. Jack didn’t react positively or negatively to the act, remaining absorbed in his call. Bitty held on until Jack said something in a clipped tone and hung up.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and dropped his head down.

“Sorry.”

After a moment of hesitation Bitty shifted his hand from Jack’s waist to rub his back.

“You’re fine. No need for sorrys.”

He bit at his lower lip, “Makes me wish I was better at French though. So I wouldn’t have to ask you if everything is ok.”

“You’re not missing much,” Jack said self-deprecatingly, “Just arguing with Bob. I wanna hear him say I’m making the right choice and he won’t.”

“Maybe,” Bitty really hoped he wasn’t stepping out of bounds, “Maybe he’s worried about influencing your decision or pushing you into something? And so he’s over-compensating or something? Sometimes Momma does that to make up for Coach.”

“Yeah,” agreed Jack, “He’s just trying not to push pressure on me. His heart’s in the right place. I just…” he blew out a heavy breath.

“What did your Momma say?”

“Same thing. ‘Do what’s right for you.’ But I don’t know what’s right for me! That’s why I’m asking the man with the professional hockey career!”

“If…” it broke his heart to ask, but Bitty wanted to do right by Jack, “If you didn’t sign with the Falcs who else was on your list?”

Jack answered right away, “The Rangers, the Kings, and the Aces.”

Bitty couldn’t hide his reaction fast enough.

“What?”

He shrugged and quickly continued, trying to sound casual, “I just can’t really see you enjoying yourself in Vegas or New York.”

“So should I go to California?” Jack grinned weakly.

“God no! You’d probably melt or something!” Bitty matched his smile, “Lotta vegetarians in LA. And you gotta eat more protein.”

“You know,” said Jack suddenly, “When I first came to Samwell the idea that I didn’t know anyone was really liberating. But now the idea of going somewhere where I don’t know anyone…”

Bitty nodded, “Well, you’ve changed, so that makes sense. You have a support system now. You know that we’ve always got your back.”

“Yeah… I know.”

Still tense under Bitty’s hands Jack finally looked up, “It’s getting late, we should head home.”

“Yeah. Makes sense.”

It hadn’t even been an hour since they’d left dinner, but Bitty knew their moment, their chance to beat the odds and share their feelings, was gone. He moved his hand off Jack’s back and stood quickly, wiping the seat of his jeans off. As they walked towards the station, he made a note in his phone to buy madeleine pans on Amazon tomorrow.

The train and bus rides back to the Haus passed in silence. Sometimes it felt comfortable, like when they studied together in Jack’s room, but sometimes it felt strained like they were both on the verge of talking and then decided better of it. Despite living across the hall from one another, Jack abandoned Bits as soon as they reached the front porch.

“Night Bittle.”

_/\\_

Left behind, Bitty did what he did best; he moved to the kitchen.

Lardo sat at the table, magazine clippings of ears spread out in front of her. She was fitting them together like a jigsaw puzzle without borders but looked up and patted the seat next to her for Bitty.

“How’d it go?”

Bitty sighed, “Really, really great until it wasn’t anymore. His dad called and it didn’t go well.”

“Did you see the pic he put up on insta?”

Shaking his head, Eric pulled his phone out and bypassed his feed to navigate straight to Jack’s profile. Staring at their hands and the caption he only sighed again.

“That was before he talked to his dad.”

“Don’t get wrapped up in trying to fix it, ok bro?”

Irrationally, even though he knew she didn’t mean it the way it sounded, Bitty blew up, “Jack doesn’t need fixing!!!”

He flushed red and apologized immediately, “Sorry. Sorry. I think I’m gonna just go to bed now. I have to be up early.”

“Sure… take care, Bits.”

_/\\_

Shutting himself in his room, Jack leaned against the door and let his head fall heavily on the wood. He wasn’t surprised at all when the bathroom door opened and Shitty ambled into his room.

“Nice pic, bro. You chill?” he asked as he sprawled over Jack’s bed, propping his head up in his hands.

Jack didn’t answer at first, though he moved to sit beside his best friend. He thought about how much he loved Bitty, and how much he wished he hadn’t answered the phone and ruined their evening. He wondered what he’d be doing right now if he’d had the courage to take Bitty’s hand in his own.

Focused on all of the what-ifs, he finally replied, “I am the opposite of chill.”

“Ouch,” Shitty’s eyebrows went up, “I thought Bits was going to chill you the fuck out. He’s been good at that lately.”

“Yeah, he. Wow.”

Shitty smirked, “Such words. So sentiment.”

“I wish we were still talking.”

His smirk fell a little, and he clarified though he didn’t actually need to, “You and Bitty?”

It hurt a little, and he didn’t like feeling hurt because Jack’s emotional needs were being met. That was a good thing. A very good thing, considering how long Jack had struggled with those emotions! He and Jack were best friends, blood brothers minus the blood, ride or die forever. Nothing would change that. And he loved Bitty like a brother too. Jack and Bits finding each other was a blessing.

“You know you live across the hall from him, right? You could just go over there? And talk to him?”

“What would we talk about?”

Confusion deepening, and still a little hurt from feeling like Jack’s second choice, Shitty did his best to be a good bro for his best bro.

“Whatever you need to work out, brah.”

_I need to work out my dick._   
_How do you tell someone they’re perfect?  
I bet he tastes like brown sugar._

“What if I don’t know what I need to work out?”

“He’ll always open that door for you. Even if you just need silence.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah bro, always.”

Knowing he wasn’t wanted or needed, Shitty swung himself out of bed.

“Night bro.”

“Night,” Jack stretched out in the space Shitty had just vacated, and let the darkness of his room surround him.

_/\\_

Across the hall, Bitty lay half awake, half asleep, but fully burrowed under his covers. He reflected on his odd, odd day, and his equally comfortable and uncomfortable relationship with Jack.

He’d only just found a position where all of the mattress under him was cool but his comforter was perfectly rolled around his body when he heard three little taps on his door.

He wanted to embrace his hidden (ok, very, very hidden) inner bro and tell whoever was on the other side to fuck right off, but his mama would be ashamed if she ever found out. Instead he sighed and responded, “Come on in, y’all.”

Already unreasonably nervous, Jack opened the door the smallest sliver and peeked in. He looked embarrassed and hesitant, and the sight of him so unsure cause Bitty to shoot up and his blankets to fall down. While he wore a thick Samwell hoodie on his top, on his bottom half he’d only put on light cotton sleeping shorts, really barely more than underwear. He fought against his own embarrassment and didn’t pull the blankets back over his lap.

“You’re asleep,” Jack said, trying to back out of the room.

Bits tripped over his words as he tried to coax Jack to come back into the room. “What? No! I’m awake! What’s up? You ok?”

_Get ahold of yourself, Eric! Calm down before you scare him off._

“I just had- uh- a question, but it’s ok. Nevermind. I actually- uh- I think I can figure it outself-- figure it out myself.”

Halfway out of bed and curious as hell, Bitty wasn’t sure what to do.

“Ok…” It was clear he didn’t believe Jack, but he didn’t want to push. “If you do need help you can always knock on my door though, ok?”

Jack hovered inside the door frame, his hips pointed into Bitty’s room, but his shoulders facing the hall. It looked mighty uncomfortable, Eric thought. He also thought that if Jack had fewer clothes on (ok: no clothing at all), the position would highlight all of his muscles in ways that Eric would never recover from. He tried not to dwell on the second thought too much. Jack clearly wanted something, and Bitty wanted desperately to be there for his friend, regardless of this crush he couldn't seem to shake.“You sure I can’t do anything right now? I’m really awake, I promise. I only turned out my light a few minutes ago.”

He sat back down on his bed and pulled his feet under the covers. To show Jack how serious he was about talking he even leaned over and flicked on his bedside light. He waited.

It took nearly a full minute, but Jack’s chest heaved silently and he acted, entering and closing the door behind him.

“Um- is it ok that I…?” he jerked a thumb to the door.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you need.”

Alone in his room with a closed door and a boy who’s more beautiful than any other Eric’s ever met, his heart fluttered wildly.

“Wanna sit?” he asked. Standing there and shifting his weight from foot to foot, Jack made him nervous.

He’d meant to offer Jack his desk chair which is already pushed out from the desk, and mercifully free of shoes, underwear, and books. Before he can, Jack, with less hesitation than he showed when entering the room, moved to the bed and sat at the base, less than a foot from Bitty.

Eric’s fluttering heartbeat crescendoed into riotous thumps.

Jack clasped his hands tightly in his lap, his knuckles turning white from the force of his grip. Beside him, Eric suppressed the urge to fill the silence, giving him a moment to think about what he wanted to say. Bits knew this wouldn’t be an easy conversation. After all of the serious talking they’d already done that evening, he couldn’t fathom what Jack found so scary he’d saved it for last, and nearly didn’t bring it up at all.

Apparently his heartbeat hadn’t crescendoed yet, apparently it could still thump harder.

“What,” ground out Jack, “do you do when you like someone?”

Eric blinked at Jack, who was staring earnestly at him. That was not even close to what he thought they would talk about.

“Like, specifically what do I do? Or is this like a more general ‘you’?”

“You, specifically.”

This wasn’t happening. Bitty could not believe this was happening. Jack liked him. Bitty knew it with as much conviction as he also knew that Jack would never act on his feelings. He couldn’t. It was too risky; you can’t be gay in the NHL. So why the fuck, after weeks of increasingly obvious flirting (there’s no way Lardo hadn’t noticed),and after their confusing not-quite-date in Boston tonight was Jack bringing it up. Nothing was going to happen. Why bother torturing them both?

He tried taking the high road and act oblivious.

“Are you ‘bout to ask me for dating advice? Because Lord, Jack, I think we prolly like different enough people that you should ask Ransom and Holster, or Shitty-- ok wait, don’t ask Shitty, that’s a horrible idea. But, Ransom and Holster! You should ask them! They’re great with dating! They prolly have loads of advice for you!”

Bitty knew how to play the pronoun game with the best of them, even as it broke his heart to do so.

Jack’s voice was quiet and even. “I’m asking you though.”

“Okay,” Bitty drew the word out, making it last and giving himself time to think of something to say. “Well, honestly?”

Jack nodded.

Bitty’s face turned down and he picked at the seam of his shorts, “Honestly- I have a history of fallin’ for straight boys, so when I like someone I just ignore it.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah, oh. I’m really not gonna be the best for you to come to for advice about your love life. Um- are you not sure that you like them? Or is it that you’re not sure if they like you back.”

Jack blew a clearly frustrated breath from his nose, and Bitty didn’t understand why, except maybe it was because he’d asked a question rather than providing an answer and now Jack had to try and clarify again. But then, that was too bad, because he really had no idea what Jack wanted right now, no idea how to help.

“The second one; I know how I feel.”

“Oh, well, ok. I guess then you should just ask?” Bitty’s voice cracked. Jack liked him. He liked him, and he’s sure about. He’s sure about _feelings_ , he said the word feelings, and that feels serious. But no, Eric needed to reel it in. Jack wasn’t going to ask. Speaking of feelings, he felt incredibly out of his depth here, and he still couldn’t figure out Jack’s motive.

Bits pressed forward, “I mean that’s the adult thing to do, right? Otherwise I guess you could get someone to ask for you, but that feels sorta too middle school, right? So you should just maybe find someplace quiet and private, and just say it.”

Jack was already shaking his head, but Bitty was warming up to this fantasy where Jack actually told him about his feelings. One hand floated out to pat Jack’s shoulder and he leaned in just a little.

“No, no, I mean- I know it’ll be nerve wracking and all- but what’s the worst that can go wrong? You say, ‘Hey, I like you a lot. Do you like me by any chance?’ and they either say yes, and it’s swawesome, or they say, ‘Sorry, not really.’ and you can just say, ‘Thanks for being honest.’ and move on! But, I mean, Jack, I really can’t believe that anyone would say no; you’re a catch.”

Jack snorted derisively.

“You are!” protested Bits, “I mean obviously you’re good lookin’---”

He didn’t mean to say that, but he immediately gave up on trying to control the blush blooming across his nose and cheeks and focused on talking through the embarrassment, “but more importantly, you’re funny, and Lord knows you’re interesting. I’ve learned more about US history from you than from four years of high school! Although… that was in the south, but- Jack! Come on! You’ve got a lot to offer a girl!”

When Bitty paused to take a breath Jack cut in, “I’m not good with talking.”

Bits wasn’t sure what to say to that. Jack wasn't not good at talking, especially not about feelings, it’s not as though the pressure of the situation would make him better. So Eric tried a different track.

“Ok, but who is in those sorts of situations?”

Jack should have to concede that point so, of course, he didn’t.

“My dad, probably. The Zimmermann charm, he calls it.”

“Jack, I’m gonna say this with a lot of love, but…”

Jack tensed waiting to hear the words _you’re not your dad_ from someone he never wanted to hear say them.

“Your dad’s a massive dork. There’s no way he woo’d your mama with his charm. When he says The Zimmermann Charm he means The Alicia Zimmermann Charm.”

The answer was so unexpected, and yet so incredibly characteristic of Eric Bittle. After a moment of just staring, Jack managed to push away his anxiety and act. He leaned forward, raising one hand to cup Bitty’s jaw, turning his face to a better angle, so he can softly press their lips together. After lingering a moment he knew he should pull away and ask if what he’d done was alright, but before he could put more than a breath’s space between them he changed his mind and pushed back in for a second kiss. This time his hand moved up to hold Bitty’s cheek. It fit neatly in his palm and he marveled at the way Bitty’s skin felt on his own.

It wasn’t the most passionate kiss in the world, it didn’t require a lot of participation on either of their parts. Jack couldn’t can’t even tell if Bitty was kissing back and it was that realization that drove him to pull back, to make sure he hadn’t read the situation totally wrong.

He got far enough away to see Bitty’s blush had gotten stronger, and his eyes were closed, the lids fluttering like Bitty was freaking out. Which, given how often over the last few months Jack had awkwardly put them into a sort of romantic situation and then done nothing about it, was probably a reasonable thing to assume.

“It’s you,” tried Jack.

Bitty’s fingers brushed across his lips, but didn’t open his eyes.

“That I like, I mean,” Jack tried again.

Bitty’s eyes opened, only show a sea of confusion.

“Um it’s you? I like you. And um. I was wondering if you liked me too?”

Bitty’s hand fell from his lips. His brow knotted together in the center. His mouth opened and closed without saying anything. Any other time Jack would have felt a thrill to have rendered Bittle speechless, but right now he really, really wanted some confirmation that he hadn’t just totally fucked up their friendship.

“You’re telling me you like me?”

“Yep.”

“In a… a kissing way?”

“In every way.”

Bitty didn’t blink, didn’t look away, but he also didn’t say anything else. He just stared at Jack, vacant, and stroked his lips again.

Jack didn’t know what to do, but Bitty hadn’t kicked him out yet so he kept trying for the truth, “I don’t know… Do you like me too? In- um- any way?”

Eric wanted to repeat his words back; tell him, _I like you in every way,_ but his vocal cords weren’t working, and his brain refused to move on from _he’ll never make a move,_ so instead he shifted until he sat on his knees right next to Jack, and then he kissed him back.

Their third kiss wasn’t any heavier than the last two but Jack thought it felt infinitely better because he wasn’t the one who started it. Bitty started it, which meant Bitty liked him.

“That’s a… yes? I think?” he whispered as they pulled apart for a breath.

Eric’s voice came out funny as he struggled to remember how words work, “Yes, Lord yes. God, yes. How could I not--”

It’s all Jack needed. He leaned backwards, hands grabbing at Bitty’s shoulders as he fell. With Eric on top of him he paused to revel in the feeling before initiating their fourth kiss.

The feeling of Jack stretched out under him made Bitty pant, and as he opened his mouth their kiss deepened.

Hands roamed and tongues explored, as they drifted into general heavy petting. They were both hard, but neither made a move to take things further, each caught up in their own mass of self-consciousness.

Eventually Bitty’s left arm went a little numb and he rolled off, squishing himself next to Jack to stretch out.

“Our heads are at the foot of the bed,” he said, not knowing what else could break the silence.

Jack simply stared at him, marveling at what had just occurred.

Bit’s couldn’t keep quiet though.

“You told me you liked me. I… I don’t understand. You can’t… hockey and… This feels like in high school when Harvey Grater told me he liked me just to see how I’d react and to try to---”

Jack cut him off all in a rush, “I’d never do that. You know I couldn’t, I wouldn’t, right? Eric I---”

Bitty shushed Jack, his eyes wide and one hand reaching out carefully to touch him, “What did you call me?”

“Sorry. Sorry, I won’t-”

“No. No! Please.”

Slowly Jack twigged to it. He rolled on his side and put an arm across Bitty’s hips, “Eric.” He paused before continuing, “I am really, scarily crazy about you.”

“Oh…” Bitty processed the feeling for a moment. For the dozenth time that week he thought about snuggling up under Jack’s chin and enjoying the closeness.

He could do that. The thought struck him that he could touch Jack like he wanted and Jack would welcome it. Relish it, more likely, if the way his thumb absentmindedly stroked the hem of Bitty’s shirt was anything to go by. He’d lived for so many weeks with the knowledge that he wanted Jack but he couldn’t have him that the act of tipping himself into his captain’s chest and burrowing close felt nearly religious.

Jack groaned, the sound coming from deep in his chest, and he adjusted to cup the back of Bits’s neck, to bend down and breath in the scent of his hair, to mouth lightly at the skin of his hairline. Shivers ran down Eric’s back.

“Oh,” he breathed out at the novel sensation.

“Mhmmm.”

“You like me.”

Jack repeated him, “I like you.”

Were they dating? We they boyfriends? Was the term boyfriends too juvenile? How would this work? They couldn’t tell anyone. They’d have to keep it a secret. They’d have to hide. Could he do that? After fighting so hard to come and live openly (even if only at school) could he go back in the closet? Should he go back in the closet? Was that being dishonest to himself? Did he deserve better? Deserve more?

“You’re tense.”

Jack’s body reacted to Eric’s and felt rigid in his arms.

_Damn it, Eric. May as well be honest now though._

“This is going to be hard.”

Jack wanted to pull away, but Eric hadn’t moved and still held his back tightly, so he didn’t. Instead he tentatively said, “But worth it?”

After a pause Bitty hummed in agreement and did his best to snuggle closer.

“Do you want to talk about it tonight? Right now?”

“Ummm, no. There’s time for that still. Let’s just… do this?”

Jack nosed down to kiss him again, “And some of,” he kissed Bitty, “this?”

_This boy_ , thought Bitty as they twined together again.


End file.
